


In Time

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Anti Lonely Howard Club 2k16, Brixton Live, Gregg learning not to threaten people into loving him, Howard also thinking maybe he can love Gregg since he gives him positive attention, Howard being flattered at his present, Howard's Wheelbarrow, Interspecies Relationship(s), Love Games, M/M, Public Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the live Brixton gig in which Gregg presents himself to Howard in a cube and Howard figures maybe he could love Gregg soon (or maybe later) and for now he'll go ahead and soak up all the affection he can and have another time with the fishman.</p><p>Alternatively; what happens after the makeout scene between Gregg and Howard after Love Games at the Brixton Live Gig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Time

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another story about the eccentric fish loving the bad jazz musician.

The notion that Gregg had cared enough to follow Howard all the way to Brixton after seeing a poster of him, insults to his eyes or not, was flattering. As much as the jazz musician tried to convince himself it was over between them, Gregg always seemed to appear with his adoring eyes and soft, careful touches. These combined were more than enough to make Howard weak at the knees.

This was not his fault. He simply hadn’t been exposed to such affection in a while. A long while. A really long while. Women simply weren’t interested in him, and Howard was too shy to express his desire for members of his own sex. That, of course, was why he was so easily swayed by Gregg. Who wouldn’t appreciate a body who was willing and head over heels? Not Howard, that was for sure.

He liked the poppy aspect of Gregg’s song. His singing was half bad, and his dancing was both amusing and alluring. Once Howard got over the bizarre threats, he was happy enough to accommodate Gregg. When the number ended, and the fishman was finished with showing off his knicker stencils, Gregg cast a sultry look towards Howard, the curtains closing over them. This had been one of the Boosh’s best gigs yet. 

As the others exited the stage, Gregg hopped down off of the crate had appeared to Howard in. Presented himself to Howard in a cube, like a gift. Howard did like presents. Surprises, not so much. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He said lightly, walking towards the fishman. 

Howard met Gregg half way, coming to the middle of the stage and throwing an arm around the fishman’s shoulders. His other hand slid down Gregg’s side to grope a handful of his ass, and Howard kissed him fiercely as he gripped over the pink tulle. Gregg leaned into him, one foot lifting slightly off the ground. He wound his arms around Howard, and clung to him, kissing him like Howard was his source of oxygen.

Howard didn’t notice the curtains opening until Gregg withdrew, beaming at the crowd and giving a little wave. The musician grimaced a little and backed away, off into the wings of the stage. That was embarrassing. And probably the work of Vince, the bastard. He’d always found it amusing to annoy Howard.

The musician heard Gregg speak as he found his wheelbarrow, tucked up behind some other props. He maneuvered it out onto the stage as Gregg spoke about his surprise, voice lilting in excitement and audible devotion. 

Howard did not have a shenis, rather, a proper cock, but Gregg was as much of a hound for the crowd’s attention as Vince was. He set his wheelbarrow down before Gregg and tucked his hands behind his back, offering a slight tilt of his head. “Come on, you cheeky vixen, get in me wheelbarrow.”   
Gregg positively radiated with excitement, giving a pleased grin. “Don’t mind if I do.” He said flirtatiously, batting his eyelashes at Howard before settling in. 

Howard turned to the crowd, one corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “He’s got a mangina, and I’ve got a shenis. Let’s make sweet love.” 

With that, he lifted the wheelbarrow by the handle and gave a chuckle, steering Gregg off the stage. Gregg lifted his legs, tutu slipping down his thighs as he let his head loll back to look at Howard, upside down. 

“Does this mean you love me, Howard?” Gregg asked, voice still tight with excitement from all the attention he was getting.

“Not yet, Gregg, not yet.” Howard replied, truthfully. 

At Gregg’s crestfallen expression, he paused in rolling the wheelbarrow as he arrived at the door exiting the back of the stage. “But maybe one day. Just keep being you, Gregg. Preferably less threats.” He said gently, setting the wheelbarrow down and, ever the gentleman, extending a hand to help Gregg out of the wheelbarrow.

Gregg took his hand delicately, fingers as cool and slightly damp as ever. Howard tugged him to his feet, stepping closer and leaning in to plant a trail of kisses along the column of Gregg’s throat. Gregg let slip a low whine, his free hand reaching up to tangle in the collar of Howard’s shirt.

“Not threats, ideas to help Howard love Old Gregg.” He spoke, voice cracking slightly when Howard nipped the lowermost tine of his finned ear. 

“Threats, Gregg, don’t help. I might love you, maybe soon, maybe later, but you have to cut it with the sucking my eyes out and turning me into a fish mount like Curly Jefferson.” He spoke sternly, giving Gregg’s hand a squeeze. 

Gregg nodded, near frantic. “Old Gregg just wants Howard to stay with him.” He clutched tighter at Howard’s collar, nails-or claws, rather-grazing Howard’s clavicle. “I’m Old Gregg.”

The musician left a final kiss under Gregg’s jaw, then drew back with a raised brow. “I know. And stay I shall. No more threats, though, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Gregg beamed at Howard, fiddling with the hem of his tutu. “Thank y’, sir.”

“Alright. Good man. Go ahead and get back to my flat, yeah? Wait in the garden out back. I’ll be there soon.” He directed, cupping Gregg’s cool cheek and thumbing the corner of his mouth.

Gregg closed his eyes briefly and leaned into Howard’s hand, then nodded and drew away reluctantly. “I’ll be waitin’, Howard. I’ll be waitin’ with my mangina.” He said matter-of-factly over his shoulder as he opened the door and slipped out into the night.

Howard snorted and shook his head fondly, heading back to the stage to shake hands and enjoy the adulation of the audience. Vince and the others were out there milking the crowd, and he joined in, smiling. His smile was more directed towards the idea of getting laid by an overly enthusiastic fishman later that night, and he was more than happy to climb into the van when the others were finished with the crowd. 

This really had been one of their best gigs ever.


End file.
